


Almost

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Angst, F/F, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 16:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/826595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost isn't good enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt from adrmaloud: _bo/tamsin, almost._

She almost kisses Bo then, in that long heated moment in the bathtub. Her jeans clinging to her legs, Bo’s knees pressing damp against her chest, enough liquor in her system to make her feel like she’s floating. Words fall from her lips before she can even think of holding them back, and a part of her—the drunk, emo part—thinks she can hear them splashing into the water below. It’s stupid, weak, pathetic, and all she wants to do is lean a little bit closer, to get just one more taste of the freedom on Bo’s lips. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or her fucked up wishful thinking, but for a second she almost thinks Bo _wants_ her to. 

But almost isn’t good enough, and she has a job to do—one that doesn’t involve getting any more invested in Bo than she already is. It hurts to pull away—a deep, throbbing ache in her chest, that only grows stronger with every soggy step she takes—but that’s what the whiskey’s for, after all. 

It’s not the first time she’s come close to making a dumbass mistake because of Bo. Hell, she’s done a lot more than come close a couple of times; helping her track down her pet human, following her into fucking Brazenwood of all places…with no reason other than she _wanted_ to. Whatever she may have expected of the infamous unaligned succubus, Bo is something else entirely. 

That’s what makes this so damn hard. It’s why she almost gave up when she found that picture in Dyson’s apartment, why she almost confessed everything to Dyson when they were standing in the middle of what turned out to be more death than she’d seen in decades. It’s why she follows Bo to that psychotic human’s compound, why she throws herself in front of a damn bullet even though she knows it’s the most idiotic thing in the world she could do. It’s why, when her powers drain her of strength and she begins to pass out, she almost hopes she never wakes up, never has to look up and face the choice that’s been hanging over her head for weeks. 

In the end, she almost goes through with it. If the potion had worked, or if she’d been a little stronger, she might be on her way to her boss right now, sexy succubus package in tow. But the potion doesn’t work, and she’s not strong enough, and Bo has a hell of a lot more to fight for than she does.

Bo almost kills her. She can feel Bo’s fingers curled tightly around the lapels of her jacket, the heat of Bo’s breath as brown eyes flash blue, and she prepares for the end. There are worse ways to go, and if she has to fall in battle, at least she has a worthy opponent. 

The sheer, crushing disappointment when Bo lets her fall back to the ground is a cruel reminder of the difference between them. Bo will not kill unless she has to; Bo _cares_. When she presses that blade to Bo’s throat, it’s not Bo she’s trying to kill—it’s her own weakness. 

When Bo steps closer, with guarded hope and desire warming brown eyes, for a moment time seems to stop. She dares to think of what it would be like, to be with Bo. She thinks of soft kisses, of playful smiles, of long nights of heated passion so electric she can almost taste it. 

But almost isn’t good enough, and neither is she.


End file.
